


Dangerous

by Vewxtowo



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), mcyt
Genre: Also it's semi public because it's in the woods and he left the door open in the second half, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Choking, Cock Rings, I know so few kinks, Masturbation, Other, Pain Kink, Semi-public masturbation, Temperature Play, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vewxtowo/pseuds/Vewxtowo
Summary: ARGbur can't even afford to be warm, so he had to find a way to not die of hypothermia. What better and more efficient way of extracting warmth than getting sweaty and worked up?Read notes.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrassSneeze](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=GrassSneeze).



> Trigger warning for self-harm, I wrote two connected scenes and the second contains a blood and pain kink. Please don't read it if you're sensitive to that type of content or will suffer due to it. I left dashes to signify when it begins, you can read the first half perfectly fine, though!

He grew up a city boy, but nature and geography fascinated him. Whenever he had the chance, he’d run away and travel to any other country. The countryside captivated him, although other cities were also incredible to explore.

Having a wild mind caused him to explore many places and put him in dangerous positions.

Maybe his teenage antics were the reason why he was still alive. He couldn’t think of any of his city friends being able to survive the wild like he was.

Finding the abandoned shack was easy, he just had to come back whenever the old couple wasn’t there. He didn’t understand why they were pissed he was there anyway, they didn’t use the damn thing. It was run down anyway, they didn’t bother to take care of it so what was so wrong with him using it?

Either way, they were too old to trek back more than once a month so he just had to watch for sound lest they call the police on him.

Whenever they came by, he’d run with his, admittedly very few, belongings into the woods nearby.

He knew a lot of people who’d be terrified of spending their night in the woods, fearing whatever animals or potential murderers creeping in the dark. Wilbur, however, didn’t give a shit.

The man was already a murderer, he really had nothing to fear after killing someone and hiding the remaining corpse. If he died then it was probably what he deserved. After all, people don’t just get away with murder without suffering some type of consequence.

Life was suffering and futile but he kept going purely to spite whatever being decided to fuck him over.

Whatever decided to make his body temperature insufferably low. Whatever made him so mentally fucked in the head. Whatever pushed him to end another human’s life over a stupid editing job. Whatever thing decided he had to suffer because of some stupid economy.

It was fine.

Besides, the woods were a fun place to be at times.

The ground was dry, having not rained in a while. His bag was in one hand and his guitar was strapped to his back. He placed them both down and sat down in a new spot he hadn’t been in before.

Changing his spot was refreshing, kept both the old couple and him on their toes.

Usually, he’d travel only a few minutes in and rest until the morning. It was a hassle walking back immediately after he traveled out. Even if the old couple left by the time he wandered deeper in, he was far too tired and lazy to make the trip back.

When he last checked the clock, it was 3 pm. If he timed it right, that meant it was about 4:30 pm now. That gave him hours and hours of doing fuck all, as usual.

He had his guitar, but lately, he’d been having a hard time coming up with anything worthwhile. Sure, he could play some of his favorite songs again, but at that point, he had all of them memorized to perfection. His fingers were suffering from frostbite anyway, he wouldn’t be able to play properly.

The items in his bag were mostly clothes and hygiene things, particularly, things he refused to waste or provided no entertainment other than reading the details printed on the items. Of course, he had the entirety of the woods to himself and, therefore, had a wide expanse of things he could do.

Getting lost was not an option, though. So, he couldn’t wander or leave his items as a marker in case they got stolen. Plus, he didn’t want to die in the woods.

He at least wanted his body to be found or for his crimes to be found out before he died.

Groaning, Wilbur leaned against a tree. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. No matter how many layers he wore, he was always cold for some reason.

He folded his legs under him, trying to compress himself as much as possible.

If he could leave the woods, he’d set fire to something and lay next to it and take a nap. But he was paranoid of starting a forest fire with the winds billowing by, especially since he knew he’d fall asleep.

Now, Wilbur was a logical man. He was empathetic but logic took over, which became more evident when he was put on hard times. So, it wasn’t too odd for him to think of the best ways to warm himself up.

And if the best way was to get off, then so be it.

With the amount of free time he had, he had definitely considered it before. He just wasn’t horny enough to do it, he needed to save battery for both his computer and phone.

Wilbur quickly pulled down his trousers, hissing when he pulled his briefs down as well and exposed his cock to cold air. He dragged a cold finger down the side, eliciting a whimper from him. Biting down on his other hand to avoid being too loud, Wilbur used his cold fingers to tease himself.

Something about the sharp coldness against his dick got him going, grasping the length in his hand pulled a moan out of him.

He hadn’t touched himself in a while, which only made him more sensitive to the nearly painful cold and rhythmic stroking motions.

His other hand moved down to his neck, pressing against it and holding it to restrict his breathing.

As he slowly stroked his cock, he dug his nails into the flesh. Edging himself with every slow pump, he took in gulps of air and bit the inside of his cheek to stay quiet.

The closer he got to his climax, the harder his grip on his neck became. Maybe he’d press too hard, maybe he’d hold on for just a little for too long, maybe the pleasure would cloud the pain and he’d accidentally die.

Maybe his downfall would be himself. The very thought of dying was exhilarating, the restriction was comforting in a way.

It reminded him of being held, not being lonely.

Whimpering when his thumb brushed against his head every time it slid up, he could feel his stomach heating up.

He edged himself closer and closer until cum spilled onto his hand and the ground underneath. His grip on his neck released, moaning into the palm of his hand and allowing him to swallow gulps of air he kept away from himself.

A haze settled over him, still overridden by the pleasure. He hadn’t done that in months.

Sitting up, he reached over to his bag and pulled out a nearly empty water bottle and tissue. Lightly wetting the paper, he began to wipe himself off.

His body felt much warmer now, the blush in his cheeks warming his face nicely. Even the tips of his ears were burning a flushed red. The cold water was unpleasant, but he managed to avoid getting cum on his legs so it wasn’t too bad.

Pulling his briefs and trousers back up, Wilbur sighed.

———

Buying a vibrating cock ring wasn’t the best idea on Wilbur’s part. He knew that very well. Especially when he was low on money and could barely scrape by as it was.

Did he refuse to return it anyway? Absolutely.

Partly due to not ever wanting to return to that store. He got too many stares with his numerous layers of dark clothing contrasting too much with the lightly colored interior.

It did have its use, though, ever since learning how quickly he warmed up after getting off, Wilbur became fascinated with testing what he liked. His hormones were a mess and he rarely felt too much emotion with his mundane life.

Finding out his own kinks would be a definite help in getting his dick up.

Of course, the first thing he thought of was blood. When he killed that man, he found the blood spilling out of the corpse so delectably enticing. Dipping his fingers in the collecting pool and wiping it on his own skin was an intoxicating feeling.

The high and adrenaline that came with such a dangerous act made him excited, if he’d gone further he’d probably throw logic out the window. The implications of such things were perverse.

Luckily, he was sensible enough to see the damage he caused and fucked off.

The raggedy old couple had already paid their monthly visit so Wilbur was in the clear. He slipped off his trousers and briefs entirely, kneeling on the mattress.

Turning on the cock ring, he smiled at the thrumming noise it let out. The vibrations felt pleasant humming against his palms. He slipped it onto his dick, moaning loudly when it touched the head. He’d never used any toys before and the vibrations already became overwhelming.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Wilbur pulled out a small knife.

His cheek pressed against the mattress, ass stuck in the cold air as he moaned and whined from the constant overflow of pleasure. Arching his back further into the bedding, whimpering loudly. He was already so close and he’d barely done anything.

Bringing the blade to his arm, Wilbur steadied his hands before lightly cutting into his skin.

Thin beads of blood dribbled out, Wilbur screamed into his other arm, cum staining his mattress. His breathing was heavy despite having just begun, he stared with lidded eyes at the shallow cut he made.

He thanked the same being that decided to ruin him that the shack was far from people. Sure, sometimes someone would wander by but that didn’t matter to him. The thought of being found with his bare ass in the air and getting off to his own skin being pierced was something that excited him.

The beads of blood enticed him, the possibility of being caught in such a compromising position sending adrenaline through his veins, and with the vibrator still going, he whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

Slowly lifting his head, he slowly brought the knife back to his arm and made another swipe.

Pain swirled with pleasure, the cock ring’s vibrations overstimulating him. He bit his arm, moaning into it and drawing more blood with his teeth. A metallic taste filled his mouth, he cut another thin stripe of blood down his arm.

Lifting his mouth off his skin, he struggled to breathe between all the sensations he felt. Cold air entering and exiting his system in erratic paces.

Wilbur whimpered, reaching down as he licked up the blood. His head brushed against the head of his cock, causing him to yelp and bite down on his bloodied arm from how sensitive he was.

Recoiling and hissing from the pain of biting his freshly opened wounds, he left a thin, bleeding line on the inside of his thigh.

Immediately making a second cut, he pulled back as a second orgasm rocked his body. If someone passed by they would’ve thought he was being murdered with how loudly he screamed.

Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, smothered when he pressed his face into the rough fabric underneath him. God, he hadn’t cried in such a long time and it felt so good to let out a few sobs into the soiled mattress.

The knife dropped out of his hand, landing in the divet his knee caused on the mattress. When he leaned forward to rock his hips into the vibrator, it sliced into his knee.

Inhaling a sharp breath of air, Wilbur pushed himself up with wobbly arms and picked up the knife. He quickly slipped the cock ring off and turned it off with shaky hands.

Even just slipping the thing off pulled lewd noises from him, he bit his lip to smother the loud whines escaping him.

Throwing the two onto a towel he set out, Wilbur collapsed onto the mattress and desperately tried to regain his breath.

All at once he felt numb yet completely overstimulated and overwhelmed with pain and pleasure. Licking his lips, the blood on them sliding easily down his throat. The cuts stung and his dick throbbed, he stared blearily at the rundown shack around him.

His breath was visible in the air, focusing on that instead of how entirely exhausted his body felt. He forced himself to sit up, wiping his eyes and began to clean himself off when he felt slightly more stable.

How the hell would the old couple react to blood, tear, and cum stains on the mattress?

**Author's Note:**

> ARGbur solo request from GrassSneeze :)


End file.
